Ron's Story
by Weasley's Wheezer
Summary: An eldery man with memories of Hogwarts gets a visit from a young protoge. Please read, and review if you're in the mood. I hope you enjoy the story.


            A handsome boy made his way up the steel staircase. He wore a fine overcoat, leather gloves, and pressed slacks. One hand fussed with a neat haircut. The other loosely held a bunch of generic flowers. 

            The boy reached the next floor and opened the door into the hallway. He was greeted by a nurse, who ushered him to room 235-A. Before opening the door, he glanced under the room number. 

WEASLEY, RONALD

            The boy sighed and stepped into the room. 

A man was sitting in a wheelchair, his back to the boy. Various tubes and machines were whirring around the elderly patient, whose breathing was obviously staggered. The only lights in the room were those on the machines keeping the man alive, save some stray lights from outside the window. The boy was quite depressed by the sight. "Uncle. Uncle!" he said, loudly. 

The man slowly and gingerly twisted his chair around upon hearing the boy speak. His hair was ragged and thin, a curious mix of red and gray. A thin, wrinkled face was the base of a stubby red beard, which surrounded thin, cracked lips. The boy was most taken by the patient's eyes: large and expressive, sadly staring out of his crippled body. The patient finally spoke. 

"Who…who are you?" Even these few words seemed to drain him. 

"Your nephew, Uncle. I'm Lance."

The patient thought for a moment. Some machines beeped. 

"Are you Ginny's youngest?" 

"That's right."  At these words, Ron tried to smile. 

"Come to visit a frail old man?"

"Well, mom insisted. She'll be coming a bit later." 

Ron shifted in his wheelchair. Visitors came in streaks, and this one didn't seem too excited to be present. How old are you, boy?" 

"Nineteen." 

"A good age," Ron wheezed. "Wish I had those years back."

"Oh, don't be so morbid."

Ron attempted a weary look. "Did she tell you I'm dying?"

Lance fidgeted. "Yes."

Ron leaned back all the way in the wheelchair. "It happens to all of us. I'm no exception."  He raised his arm, tubing attached, to absently scratch at his beard. "How'd you do at school?"

Lance checked his watch before replying. "Not too bad. I'm an apprentice to the bank these days."

"Mm. Just like my brother."

Lance looked up, interested. "Oh? Which one?"

Ron's aged eyes looked down, deep in thought. His brow furrowed. "I can't remember. Not anymore." He closed his eyes. 

Lance stared at his uncle, unemotional. He felt some obligation to make this trip worthwhile for both parties. "I'm engaged, you know." 

Ron looked back up. "Really?" He coughed several times before managing, "Who's the girl?"

"No one you know, Uncle."

Ron's smile faded. "I suppose I'm a bit out of touch these days." There was a pause. "Are you in love, then?"

Lance, forgetting his audience, grew a bit angry. "Of course I am, you bat! Who gets married for any other reason? Alyssa is a beautiful girl!"  After this outburst, the boy took several deep breaths. 

Ron took his time replying. It wasn't what Lance was expecting. 

"I loved a girl once. Also beautiful." 

"Oh really?" was all Lance could think to say. 

"Yes. Since school. She was everything to me."

Lance was getting interested. "Well, that sounds all right. Pretty girl?"

Ron frowned at his nephew. "Are looks all you see? Beautiful can have many meetings."

"I'm not that stupid, Uncle. Believe me." 

Ron, the old man, began to slowly ask questions. "What's Alyssa's real hair color? Favorite book? Secret dream?"

Lance sputtered. He didn't know what to say. 

Ron, noticing the silence, began again. "Let me give you some answers. Brown. _Hogwarts, A History. _Freeing all those who suffer in the world." 

Lance took on a confused expression. "Who is that supposed to be? Your girl?"

"Yes, 'my girl.' Hermione Granger." The name seeped out of Ron's thin lips, tainted by sadness. 

"And where is your Hermione now?" Lance asked, genuinely curious. 

Ron sat, unmoving. He didn't seem to have heard. 

"Uncle I asked---" 

"I heard you," Ron said quickly. "She's gone."

Lance blinked. "Gone? As in dead?"

"As in buried." The silence that followed was the thickest yet. Ron finally got out that she had died of breast cancer. More silence. Suddenly, Ron began to talk. "Time for a story, nephew mine. Listen closely." 

Lance nodded absently. 

** ** **

I was a boy. She was a girl. It also happened that we were best friends. For many years, you must realize. It began with your old teasing and bickering, you know how kids are. Sometime midway through school, our relationship changed. At least mine with her. She began to not only look beautiful to me, but everything about her clicked for me. Do you know what I'm talking about? I  quivered in her presence. She had no fault. Her bad sides merely complemented the good. We became a couple later in school, but she eventually fell out. She said she appreciated how I treated her, but her feelings just weren't as strong. What was I to do? We kept in close touch after school, still best of friends. I could live with that. Then she fell in love with someone else, got married. I suppose she assumed my feelings had faded away. They hadn't. They're stronger now than they ever have been. She fell out of favor with him. We had lunch once the month before she died. I kissed her. If you're looking for a specific reason, I can't give you one. She left. I had no idea she was sick. Next time I saw her, she was in a casket. A bloody casket. 

** ** **

Lance took this in.  Ron was sitting in silence. Deep, opressive silence. He spoke at long last. 

"Are you sure you love this Alyssa?"

A quiet reply: "Yes." 

"Are you sure she feels the same?"

"Yes." 

"Then you're lucky. Don't frighten her off. Stay who you are right now, stay the person she fell in love with. Don't frighten her off."  Ron's breathing began to return to normal: wheezing. 

"Can I ask, Uncle, what your medical problem is?"

"Complications." 

Lance hesitated. "What from?" 

"Giving an organ. The recipient died anyway. His body didn't take it. But I sure didn't need it. I don't need anything anymore. I'm an empty person." 

Lance looked down at his polished shoes. "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" wheezed Ron. 

"You've been through a lot." 

"I'm sorry, too." 

It was Lance's turn to ask. "Why's that, Uncle?"

"Everything I've gone through is waiting for you. Unless you hang onto this girl. You sure you love her?"

"Yes." 

"Not just looks?"

"No."

Ron settled again. "Good. Years ago I might've said… brilliant." Ron, for the first time, managed a full smile. Lance smiled back for a moment before Ron began coughing heavily. The coughing ended, and the two sat for a long time. Footsteps were heard behind Lance.

"Did you tell Lance everything?" The voice was a woman's. 

Ron replied quickly. "Yes, Ginny. He knows what he needs to know." Ginny was in tears, and rushed to hug her brother. "Ron..you were such a good brother all these years…"

Lance failed to understand this exchange. Why speak as if he's dead?

 After a while, the siblings separated. Ginny firmly took Lance's hand and led him to the doorway. 

"Goodbye, Ron," she whispered. Lance waved and thanked Ron for telling him the story. Mother and son stood in the doorway and waved goodbye again. Ron tried to smile and weakly waved back. His sister and nephew scuttled off down the corridor, closing the door behind them. 

** ** **

Later that night, Ron thought about his nephew. He hoped Lance would realize what's most important, even though Ron himself wasn't so sure. The same night, following the worst seizure yet and at Ron's request, he was taken off life support. 

** ** **

Ron's ears turned red. "Hello, Hermione." 


End file.
